


equinox

by wildlings (candybank)



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: M/M, prince yanchen au :p, yanchen harem tbh will tag characters as they come ??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-05-31 18:10:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15125066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candybank/pseuds/wildlings
Summary: he loves me, he loves me not.





	1. ruby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the sloppiest fic ive ever written its really Not well written but prince yanchen + xukuns ponytail + concubine zhengting + yanchen harem ?? i had to get it out of my system

"can i borrow him?" ziyi can't find anything else to say, tongue twisted, eyes practically cross from staring too long at the pretty boy in the pretty silk robe walking by. paper umbrella on his shoulder, white doves sewed into his sleeves.

yanchen hadn't noticed zhengting pass. he follows ziyi's gaze and laughs. he steals a kiss. just one quick kiss.

"only if i'm there, your highness."  
  


**+**  
  


the sky is dark when his door slides open. zhengting is sitting on the floor, beside his bed. robes prettier than the day, lower down his pale shoulders. he's painting something beautiful on a canvas when yanchen steps in.

ziyi is surprised when the boy doesn't scramble to his feet or press his forehead against the floor at once, like anyone else would have. he only finishes a stroke, places his brush down, and caps the little tubs of oil beside the paper.

"prince," he greets, looking up at them through hooded eyes and a little smile. there's something about the way he says it, ziyi notices. something about the drawled syllable, the crook of his lip, that says this isn't a subject being respectful, but a plaything being playful.

"zhengting," yanchen replies, motioning towards ziyi, "this is ziyi. i'm sure you know him."

zhengting drags his eyes down ziyi's body and back up, and ziyi feels an overwhelming urge to bow.

wanting to bow to a peasant. it's an entirely new thought that distracts him.

zhengting grins. "well, i read books, don't i?"

yanchen's knuckle cracks when he presses his hand into a fist.

"he'll be joining us tonight," yanchen announces, stepping further into the room—as if he owns it, as if he had gifted this very house to zhengting. he unwraps the ribbon around his own waist, sheds the clothing off of his back, the shoes off of his feet. 

zhengting sighs softly, cleans the table, and gets off of the floor to fetch them something to drink.

from the adjoining kitchen, he hears them laugh like little boys. yanchen pulling at ziyi's clothes, ziyi being a child about it as if they haven't fucked in the palace balcony, in the palace gardens, in the royal library.

when he walks back, they're seated around the small table beside his bed, legs crossed on the floor. with practiced expertise, zhengting sits across the both of them and pours them both a cup of tea.

"he said you were pretty," yanchen mentions, nonchalant, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine from his cup, then sipping carefully.

zhengting smiles. coyly, he trails his eyes towards ziyi. and ziyi, not knowing what to do when he sees zhengting move towards him, when he hears the silk of zhengting's robes rustle like leaves underneath a snake moving towards its prey. he stays absolutely still in his seat, shirtless, clueless.

zhengting eats up the distance between the both of them like its nothing, suddenly so close that ziyi can feel his lips, his breath. he thinks, maybe it's just his imagination.

zhengting presses a gentle, scathing kiss to his throat. hands on either side of his face, thumb tracing his lower lip and looking straight into his brown eyes, zhengting tilts his head. "does he know my name?"

yanchen chuckles, "that's what i said." he drinks more of his tea.

zhengting laughs the same laugh, kissing ziyi's neck again, rubbing his thigh, silk robe slipping down, down, down his shoulders.

 

 


	2. diamond

"zhengzheng, let's play tonight," yanchen says softly, _cutely_. twirling the ribbon hanging loose off of zhengting's robes around his fingers, tugging gently.

when they walk past the doors of zhengting's home, he almost expects a kiss. a hand holding his hand. a smile. something.

but nothing comes.

zhengting only flutters to his room, grabs yanchen a pillow to sit on, fixes him a cup of tea, then takes a beautiful brown box out of the closet. yanchen sits on the floor, pout on his lips, as he watches zhengting unwrap something blue and beautiful. watches him undress, watches him pull on new robes and examine himself in the mirror.

"that's pretty," yanchen comments, trailing the gold trimming and intricate embroidery. zhengting ties ribbons, tightens here and there, fixes himself up all pretty. and when he's done, all yanchen wants is to stare at him.

the blue looks regal against his pale, pale skin. his brown eyes popping like bright stars against the shade of the clear sky. ethereal, is the only word yanchen has for it. and he has always been so, so eloquent.

"so, tonight? i'll come after my meeting," yanchen says, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine.

"not tonight," zhengting replies, as if he's barely paying attention. his long silk robe flows all around him as he walks back into his room, to get a box from his vanity.

"hm?" yanchen says, standing up to walk to zhengting when he doesn't return after a second. he sees him in front of his vanity, tinkering with something in a box. when yanchen peeks, he's almost blinded by the obsidian and the diamond.

"why not tonight?" he kisses zhengting's neck instead of asking anything else. zhengting doesn't stop him, doesn't encourage him. 

"your brother asked for me," zhengting answers, biting his lip. happy, giddy. he looks at himself in the mirror as he tries necklaces and rings.

yanchen doesn't answer for a second, just a little taken aback. he watches zhengting go through the motions. he watches, and watches.

"put this on," he says gently, picking up a diamond ring on display. one he had given to zhengting for his birthday the year before.

zhengting only shakes his head. "your brother gave me these, and he specifically said to wear only these."

yanchen puts the ring down, stares at zhengting through the mirror. if only because he can, he plants kisses along zhengting's shoulder and walks away. if only because he can, if only because he knows he can't say anything and that all they've ever had between them is borrowed time, yanchen plops down on zhengting's bed and watches him.

"so, he's back..."

"didn't you know?"

"...of course i knew."

but zhengting keeps sounding like he's somewhere far away, and yanchen can't remember a time when zhengting looked that excited to see him.

"i'm going," yanchen announces, expecting zhengting to stop him when he reaches the door.

"take care, prince."

 **+**  


it's far too late to be knocking on someone's door, but yanchen is rapping his fist against the gates of the cai estate, anyway.

no one can stop him, and no one tries. he walks through the gates and the gardens and the front doors to bowing servants and guards and housekeepers.

he doesn't knock when he reaches xukun's door.

and xukun, sitting by his open window, quietly reading his book. he turns to look at the disturbance, and he nearly laughs. he closes his book out of respect and bows his head. 

"it's never too late to be polite," he quips.

but yanchen doesn't talk, doesn't say another word, doesn't breathe. he only shuts the door behind him and nearly tackles xukun to the floor.

tearing at clothes, biting on lips, teeth too hard on tongues, on skin, on anything. xukun lets it happen. pulling at hair so hard, the ties come loose. fucking into him so fast, everything goes white.

and yanchen keeps talking, talking, talking. he's talking about something that xukun can barely piece together. something about a boy, his brother, jewelry and jealousy. it's a tired tale that does nothing for him, but xukun tries for yanchen.

"mhm," he sounds off. "fuck me faster," he emphasizes. 

and yanchen knows that xukun isn't listening. he knows this, but it won't stop coming out of his mouth like word vomit. zhengting and his brother and how his brother owns zhengting, he gets it, but his brother never even wanted a concubine, his brother was only forced by their father into getting one for show, so why is his brother calling for zhengting now?

five seconds after it ends, and yanchen has already forgotten how it ended. how it started. he sits by the open window, xukun burns something, and they breathe in, and breathe in, and breathe in until they feel good enough to fasll asleep.

"can i even fucking ride my horse today?" xukun groans in front of the mirror as he finishes getting dressed for the day, massaging his hip, shaking his leg. he's still walking a little funny. and yanchen, getting dressed in new garments given to him by xukun, he's trying not to laugh.

"you can ride me again."

"sure. can you gallop all the way to the palace?" xukun pulls on his shoes, ties his hair into its usual ponytail, then the step out into the sunshine again.

in front of xukun's house waits his horse, and a boy on another horse patiently waiting.

"prince yanchen, this is general ding zeren," xukun introduces informally. yanchen puts a hand up to keep zeren from hopping off of his horse to bow.

zeren, extremely humbled, he bows his head and smiles instead. "good morning," he greets the both of them, trailing off awkwardly, as if he hasn't decided how to end his sentence.

xukun clears his throat and laughs, swings his leg over onto the saddle and groans.

yanchen stifles a laugh. xukun throws him a glare. zeren, ever quick on the uptake, he think he knows exactly what's happening, so he looks away towards anything else.

"a new general?" yanchen says, looking at the boy on the other horse.

"mhm. came in a day ago," xukun answers. zeren nods.

yanchen tilts his head and looks at him for a second. "a bit young," he comments.

"one of the youngest ever," xukun confirms. "we'll see you around." an exchange of nods as quick goodbyes, xukun speeds away into the distance. 

"it was very nice to meet you, prince yanchen," zeren attentively bids farewell, following in xukun's trail.


	3. peridot

six cups of jasmine brew on the table, permeating every inch of zhengting's room. he sits back against the head of his bed, wets his lungs with something from a pipe, then dries his airways with the smell of the air. he gazes, for a moment, at the unfinished painting of yanchen's face sitting in one corner of his room. then, he breathes in again, again, again.

twelve full turns of the clock since yanchen last called for him, last looked at him, last noticed he existed at all. xingjie, yanchen's older brother, he had gone back to war days before. and zhengting, xingjie's one and only plaything, he had gone back to sitting in his home all day, drawing the same old things, roaming the nearby gardens, smelling the same old flowers.

he had begun to feel lonely, and sitting there alone, on his very big bed, in his very big house, in absolute silence, with a bit of a mess to clean, he still feels the same loneliness. no one to talk to, no one to laugh with.

he draws up his own bath and sits in the tub until his skin goes pruney. somewhere between staring at nothing and missing yanchen dearly, he makes the decision to change everything.

determined, leaving a trail of dripping water behind him, he fixes himself up all pretty. in all of yanchen's favorite shades of pearl white and green, and soft golds and diamonds. zhengting gives his reflection one last nod before heading out of the door, startling the servant waiting outside of his room.

"wish me luck, junnie," zhengting bids giddily, reaching for a paper fan. "if all goes well, i won't be back at all tonight."  


**+**  


he waits by the oak tree down yanchen's usual path back to the palace, patiently, strategically. it takes yanchen all of an hour to arrive. and zhengting ignores the little pain in his knee from standing too long.

he fixes it all to look like a coincidence, as if he was only trying to get some air when yanchen just so happened to pass by.

it's easy to fall into step with yanchen and the familiar face walking beside him.

"how have you been, prince yanchen? i haven't heard from you for a while," zhengting speaks with an expert subtlety—captivating xukun with his smile, not fooling yanchen at all.

"you've been busy," yanchen returns.

zhengting swallows thickly, quietly. yet to give up, he chuckles. "would you like some company tonight?" he asks brazenly.

yanchen stops in his tracks as they near the entrance, everyone else stopping alongside him. quick gaze exchanged, nothing certain for all of a moment, no one speaking before the prince—then, yanchen breaks into a polite smile.

"you're dismissed," he tells zhengting, the kindness in his voice only cold and cruel, "you no longer have to come to my chambers."

yanchen doesn't bother with a bow of head before walking again. and the military boy walking with him, all hooded eyes and messy hair pulled up into a ponytail, looking just the slightest bit surprised, he gives zhengting a little smile and a nod before walking after his friend.

"that's your zhengting?" xukun chuckles as he jogs back to yanchen's side.

"xingjie's."

xukun laughs.

 **+**  


feeling humiliated and sadder than ever before, zhengting makes quick work of running back home.

"z-zhengting, you're home ear—whoa—" yanjun yelps when zhengting pulls him inside, barely able to shut the front door behind them before he's being dragged into zhengting's bedroom.

zhengting lets go of his wrist, and he has absolutely no idea what to do as the pretty boy in his pristine silk robes throws his fan against the wall and leaves for the joining room.

yanjun hears something hit the floor with a thud, and he walks in to see zhengting's hands shaking over a tea set, a cup rolling on the floor. hurriedly, he walks over to take care of everything.

"it's fine," he tells zhengting as gently as he can, voice a little raspy from disuse. "please, sit. i'll take care of it."

powerless, feelings absolute useless, zhengting nods and leaves to sit on the floor. he almost looks like a painting, yanjun thinks as he walks over, sitting in the middle of his room like that, surrounded by silk and pretty things. 

it's a mournful painting, despite the lively colors.

yanjun sets the tray down on the table and pours hot water into zhengting's cup of flowers. he sits when zhengting tells him to, sits closer when zhengting tells him to, says nothing as zhengting lays his head on his lap, stays absolutely quiet until zhengting speaks.

"what did i do, junnie?" zhengting pouts, sounding as if he's near tears. yanjun has half a mind to pull his robes over his shoulders, but he keeps his useless hands still.

and zhengting pauses, as if he's deep in thought. staring at the collar of yanjun's shirt, trying to come up with explanations in his head.

"why does yanchen hate me...?" zhengting wonders aloud, drawing lines on his face with a frown. and he stares at the collar of yanjun's shirt, thinking hard. eyes trailing to his face, sharp features and straight lines. "why are you a servant?" zhengting asks suddenly.

"i..." yanjun blinks, forcing words out when it becomes clear that zhengting is waiting for a response, "my family has some debts..."

"you're handsome," zhengting says, "you could be like me." he chuckles. "it's not much of a life. being... a plaything. but it's better than your life now."

and yanjun says nothing, so zhengting grabs his collar, pulls him down, kisses him in the heat of the moment.

and yanjun, caught off-guard and completely taken aback. he can't kiss back for a moment, instinct waiting until the third time zhengting presses their lips together to remember what to do. 

it's a slow-uptake kind of kiss, like waiting for the hill to get steeper so the wheel can roll down faster against gravity. faster, faster, faster, until it crashes. hands all over each other, lips everywhere, teeth here and there. breathing so loud that yanjun barely hears the knock on the door.

"there's someone at the door," yanjun stops a kiss awkwardly, then they hear it clearly.

zhengting blinks, before getting up and gathering himself. tying the ribbon around his waist tighter, telling yanjun to stays till as he closes his bedroom door.

just a little more disheveled than he thinks when he answers the door, two strands of hair sticking out.

"general cai," he blinks, surprised, forcing the memory of the morning out of his head, trying not to remember that the boy in front of him had seen him fail so spectacularly, "to what do i owe the pleasure?"

"i came to see how you were," xukun says with a friendly grin. 

"oh."

"my friend... treated you a bit badly this morning."

"it's fine."

xukun squints for a second, peers inside. zhengting catches on and steps aside. xukun comes in, zhengting taking off his shoes for him and placing them neatly by the door. he stands beside xukun, hands clasped together, waiting for something that he doesn't know.

then, xukun looks at him. looks closer. he chuckles, pressing his thumb against the corner of zhengting's mouth, swiping as if he's wiping something off of his face. "your lip color is smudged," xukun says observantly. a blush spreads from the tips of zhengting's ears down to his chest.

for a moment, xukun stands so close that zhengting thinks he might kiss him. but he only moves away and explores more of the house.

zhengting's heart beats faster and faster as they approach his bedroom. xukun's steps are so quiet that he doubts yanjun would hear anything until it's too late.

and he's right, xukun opening the door into his room too quickly for yanjun to hide. and yanjun, still on the floor, clothes a bit of a mess. xukun laughs when he sees him, cocks his head to the left to tell yanjun to leave.

quick glances exchanged, nothing else said, yanjun bows his head and stumbles out. xukun escorting zhengting in with a hand against the small of his back, closing the door behind them.

and zhengting, still not entirely sure what to do. what xukun wants, what's happening. "tea?" he asks.

xukun shakes his head. "it's fine," he says, inviting zhengting to sit beside him with a finger curled around his finger.

all obedient, zhengting sits beside him. sitting straight, watching closely. observing, waiting—because that's what xukun seems to want

"he's jealous."

"hm?"

"come here."

zhengting climbs onto xukun's lap. xukun pulling at one loose string, zhengting unraveling. white robes falling down his arms, down his body, unwrapped like a present on christmas day.

xukun presses his lips over zhengting's heart. zhengting shivers from the warmth. "he never shuts up about you," xukun says, pressing another scathing kiss against zhengting's skin, "i want to see what i've been missing."

all at once, far too late, it all comes together. and zhengting, too tired to sigh. too craving affection to say anything else. he takes xukun's face between his palms. "do you want me to..."

"i want everything."

zhengting stares at him for a moment. "okay," he answers in a whisper. kissing xukun's lips, laying him down on the floor.


	4. topaz

"have you seen yanchen today?" xukun asks, licking a stripe across zhengting's clavicle, if only because he hopes it'll take the frown off of zhengting's face.

zhengting sighs, fingers tangled in xukun's hair, head lolling to one side and exposing more of his neck. like a shark seeing blood, xukun immediately grabs at the chance to press his lips against zhengting's throat.

"he was having lunch with that young general," zhengting answers, and xukun tries to kiss the frown off of his pretty pink lips.

berries. zhengting's lips always taste like some kind of berry. xukun licks the sweetness of it off of his own lips and kisses zhengting again. hands slipping under loose silk garments and pulled strings, tracing ribs and skin. xukun's hands glide a little too far to the side, and zhengting's chuckles. ticklish.

seeing his smile, xukun feels like a farmer blessed with sunshine for the first time in decades of rain. he presses a kiss onto zhengting's rosy cheek, onto the curve in the corner of his lips. "your smile is pretty," he tells him, grinning, scratching his fingers against the same spot and making zhengting jump.

"stop!" zhengting laughs, squirming as xukun tickles him.

and xukun laughs too, falling onto the floor with him. feeling accomplished, feeling light as air.

  
+++

  
"you looked pretty on prince xingjie's arm today," xukun teases, pressing a kiss underneath zhengting's ear.

it's deep in the night after a long party yet to conclude. zhengting excusing himself, saying he's tired. xukun slipping away from the tiring festivities into zhengting's room, pulling off ceremonious gold-and-white off of his body. xukun in zhengting's bed, on top of him, zhengting's legs wrapped around his waist, ringed fingers grabbing at his skin and pulling him closer.

"but you would have looked much better on mine," xukun says, kissing zhengting to an inch of his life.

"is that all i am to you?" zhengting quips playfully, back arching as xukun kisses down his body, "just an accessory?"

and nobody ever says anything about how no one can do anything about it. about how everyone wants him, but only xingjie has the right to.

"of course not," xukun says, and zhengting likes how he can't tell if it's a lie.

"walk me to the rose garden tomorrow, then," zhengting says, looking down to see xukun looking up. xukun climbs back up his body, to kiss his cheek over and over.

"we can't, remember?" xukun resists the urge to bite a blooming red mark atop zhengting's heart, "because you don't want yanchen to find out.

and i don't want him to," in one swift move, firms hands gripping zhengting's small frame, xukun flips them over. muscles resting, tension releasing. xukun exhales a deep sigh.

"i'm tired," he says, vulnerable when he looks up at zhengting.

and zhengting, knowing exactly what he wants - weeks and weeks of having someone in his bed is quite enough to develop an understanding - he smiles softly, and pulls off the piece of white silk wrapped around his neck. with steady, gentle hands, he covers xukun's eyes with it, tightly knotting the piece of cloth behind his head.

and xukun, seeing only black, he can't help the smile that tugs at his lips. the little shock, the tiny moans when zhengting kisses him here, there, biting and tugging too harshly then too softly. "be good now," zhengting tells him, a kind of warning, licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue. "will you be good for me?"

"yes," xukun answers in a heartbeat, "yes, i'll be good."

  
+++

  
"i should talk to him," says yanchen pensively, sitting opposite xukun over a tiny table, food going cold in front of him.

xukun's chews on his food, elbow resting on his knee, leg so improperly bent. he looks at the food, at yanchen, at the very puzzled look on his face. on one hand, it's a very sad thing to see - his friend suffering, lovesick, barely eating and barely sleeping. they've known each other since time immemorial, after all. maybe before they were even born, maybe before they ever met at school or sparred in class. it's hard for xukun to see him like this.

on the other hand, zhengting is an insanely good fuck.

"give it time," xukun says simply, as if he's at just the right distance from the problem to speak about it, "time heals all wounds. he'll be running back to you in no time. patience is a virtue. all that."

"excuse me?" yanchen tilts his head, "where's the cai xukun i know? and you speak in inspirational passages now?"

xukun shrugs nonchalantly, tossing another piece of pork into his mouth. "i've been reading."

playfully, yanchen narrows his eyes at him.

"what?" xukun chucks a green bean at his friend. "eat your food. we pay our cook fifty gold coins a month."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brownie points if u knew i stole the dialogue from gossip girl hhhhh YES THE CHAPTERS ARE VERY SHORT like my attn span ty


	5. tektite

eyelashes flutter here and there, back and forth, to and fro.

"zhengting," yanjun says softly as he pours tea into a cup. 

"hm?"

"you're staring... again..." and his words are so quiet that the porcelain pieces clinking together are louder than his voice. this makes zhengting chuckle. taking yanjun by surprise when he suddenly cups his cheek in his hand.

"you're so handsome," he says tenderly, as if he hasn't said it a million times in the past month. a faint red spreads across yanjun's cheeks, up to his forehead, to his ears. thinking of how it seems like flowers blooming on the first morning of spring, zhengting chuckles at the sight of it.

"come here, come here," zhengting tugs on him, and yanjun practically crashes against the table between them.

"let me look at you," says zhengting, holding yanjun's face up in between his palms, examining every crack and corner of his face. "your skin isn't bad... for a servant, especially..." he voices observantly, turning yanjun's face this way and that. feather-light, his finger travels down the slope of yanjun's defined jawline. making yanjun ticklish, making him laugh. he stops when zhengting turns his head on straight again.

the pads of his thumbs run across yanjun's cheeks, across his forehead, the bridge of his nose. he stares for a moment. and without warning, he kisses him.

it lasts for only a moment, for too long. yanjun's eyes blown wide like saucers, zhengting pulling away before yanjun can realize what's happening.

"you have no talent in that," he comments honestly, running his thumb across yanjun's bottom lip. he gives him a smile; the softest and sweetest smile yanjun thinks he has ever laid eyes on,

"fortunately, everything in life is a skill."

+

"zhengting..." yanjun speaks, correcting himself when he forgets to put a hand on his arm as he picks up a chess piece to place down on the table.

"do it lightly," zhengting instructs, "place your pinky finger down on the board before the piece, so that it makes no sound."

and yanjun does as he says.

"i still don't understand why you're teaching me this..." guiltily, he bows his head, "i haven't had time to prepare your dinner."

and yanjun thinks to the past week. to calligraphy and music, to trading hours in the sun to days in the shade. to the odd feeling of sitting on a cushion in zhengting's presence, while zhengting watches him write and write and write.

"don't think about that," zhengting tells him, as if he didn't even need to think of the words before speaking them. he taps yanjun's chin to make him look up, "imagine i'm a prince. when you're with a prince, you don't think of anything else.

you don't let your mind wander."

+

"where are you?" yanchen asks, voice barely above a whisper as he presses a soft kiss into zhengting's hair.

zhengting finds himself traveling back from the clouds, running back down to the earth from his place in the sky. he smiles, gently, apologetically. and he turns his body to see yanchen better. smiling when he sees his face, laughing as if he's delighted. "i let my mind wander," zhengting answers, tilting his head when he kisses yanchen. the sensation of it running through his body, warm and cold and electric all at once. making him want more, making him need less. it's comforting and troublesome all the same, all the seasons blowing in one direction, time stopping and running too fast.

"will you forgive me?" he presses a long kiss to yanchen's neck.

and yanchen pulls him closer, the sleeve of zhengting's robe slipping down his arm. "for today," yanchen answers benevolently, making zhengting laugh.

"what luck we have to be ruled by such a merciful prince," he teases, laughing when yanchen laughs, kissing back when he's kissed.

the moon watching them, all the stars so envious of their love that they jump from their place in the sky thinking earth might be much better.

"look!" zhengting gets up from his place in yanchen's bed, back pressed against yanchen's chest. he barely remembers to wrap his silk robe around himself, all strewn across the bed and the floor, when he runs to the open window. yanchen follows suit, walking up behind him and looking up to see what's he's looking at.

"a shooting star, chenchen!" zhengting smiles, pointing towards something bright falling from the sky.

but yanchen can barely tear his eyes away from where they rest, so he wraps his arms around zhengting's waist from behind, instead.

"shooting stars may be pretty," zhengting speaks as yanchen leaves kisses along his shoulder, "but i hear they're bad luck."

"do you believe in that?"

"well... we all need a little luck, don't we?"


End file.
